Somehow it’s pretty doubtful that Jonquil’s decision to call their new EP One Hundred Suns had anything to do with Linkin Park’s sensational comeback record A Thousand Suns (trust those guys to for a millennium of yellow stars where clearly one is enough for our humble planet). The art-rock ensemble from Oxford are more renown for intricate, carefully orchestrated folk experiments rather than clunky collaborations with Jay-Z, so it’s not surprising that there is no scratching or rapping over downtuned guitars on this record. There are, however, a few interesting new aspects to their sound.

One Hundred Suns starts with a melange of a softly-softly synth line, falsetto vocals and some lovely clean guitar doodling. The song is called ‘Fighting Smiles’ and becomes an almost danceable jungle-jangle-pop song with a little emotional edge to it. It seems as if Jonquil have paid close attention to this year’s Vampire Weekend and Local Natives albums, both of whom took the dying ambers of western afro-pop and reignited them by using autotune, electronic samples and Americana-style vocal harmonies.

There’s a bit of a lo-fi bedroom echo to Hugo Manuel’s vocals, and there is ample space for the drums to rumble, roll and break into tropical patterns and for the guitars to flutter like a songbird with a nervous disposition. ‘It Never Rains’ sounds like an overcast day at the beach, which are the best days anyway – nobody wants to be grilled into a whimpering, sweaty mess, and you can sit on the hotel balcony, guilt-free, drinking rum.

Jonquil have been compared to Beirut in the past, but the only hint at a passing interest in world music here is the use of a couple of brass riffs on the slow, yearning ‘Pillow Quest’ and on the Foals-esque ‘I Know I Don’t Know’ and on the accordion-led, drunken singalong ‘Lions’ (which originally appeared on their last album).

The overall tone of One Hundred Suns is hard to pinpoint – there are elements of the boundless bounceability that made people like Fool’s Gold, and there are good hooks aplenty. But Manuel’s singing always sounds as if he’s preparing for the worst, as if he’s just soundtracking a good day before the inevitable collapse of a friendship or an ideal. This contradiction, together with a very solid production, makes for a very enjoyable record indeed.